some beat poetry and commentary.

[You spat in the dirt and healed the blind man's eyes to lead me to the fact that I'll never really understand





and that sometimes it takes the sharp pain from the bright light that blinds me so that i can eventually see and to finally know my real name.



--some percussion interlude of sorts--


And the whole thing makes me sick sometimes, because I'm ultimately the reason you were bound and stuck up there like some piece of art on a wall. And you've become art on my chest that reminds me that there's more



so much more to this whole thing. ]

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It excites me that the way I string together my words on paper, the music I make, and my ridiculous, elated dancing are all my language in which to worship creatively.

basically, He comes down to saying this:

Love them all and worship One; do it creatively... And in the most literal sense of the phrase, to hell with the rest .